


demons in the darkness

by CongressIsAliens



Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: Flashbacks, Human Perry the Platypus (Phineas and Ferb), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, OWCA (Phineas and Ferb), Panic Attacks, Post-Episode: The OWCA Files, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Slash, Trapped In Elevator, there's a bunch of hurt then there's a bunch of comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28437003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CongressIsAliens/pseuds/CongressIsAliens
Summary: Perry doesn't much like the dark. Nothing good ever comes out of it.So when he's stuck in an elevator and his flashlight goes out, he may or may not start to panic.
Relationships: Heinz Doofenshmirtz/Perry the Platypus
Comments: 18
Kudos: 138





	demons in the darkness

**Author's Note:**

> oh boy what a year it's been. and we're only eight days in. can i get off this ride? 
> 
> TW's for PTSD, a graphic flashback, themes of death, and mentioned blood and firearms.

Perry gets in the elevator in OWCA's headquarters, pressing the button for the thirteenth floor and watching the doors close. With a minuscule jolt, the car starts to ascend. 

He leans his head back against the wall, the brim of his fedora tipping forwards in front of his eyes. 

What a day. Meeting after meeting (it's honestly a shame that Heinz moved to research and development, he at least made the agent meetings entertaining) this morning, then immediate assignment to an absolutely brutal mission. Most of the details are classified, but suffice it to say he'll have bruises for days and nightmares for weeks. 

And then, the icing on the cake, accidentally grabbing Maggie's phone out of the repair tray instead of his, and not realizing it until he was already in the parking lot. 

Which means back up to the thirteenth floor, where Maggie's dorm is. 

Perry smiles a little to himself. At least there's one good thing, he doesn't have to live in the crappy junior agent dorms anymore. When he gets home, he's _home_ , not constantly on call. 

Speaking of finally going home, how long is this elevator going to take? He usually takes the stairs, but he can barely stand up right now, so he didn't think that was a good idea. Still, it really might have been faster.

He takes Maggie's phone out of his pocket, turning it over in his hands. A clear case with a sticker of a scarlet macaw on the back, a screen protector with a few small air bubbles near the edges, and a dead battery. He wonders if Maggie is asleep yet, or if she's still up doing paperwork. 

The elevator jolts to a sudden stop, and Perry snaps to full alertness. He shifts into a defensive stance, glaring at the door and waiting for a surprise attack. It seems rather unlikely, to be attacked in an elevator, but it's happened before. And with the day he's had, he wouldn't count it out. 

But when seconds, then minutes pass, he finally lets his guard down. Looks like it's just another malfunction. OWCA's budget cuts get worse and worse every year, even when clerical errors are fixed. 

He groans, sticking Maggie's phone back in his pocket. It's late, he's exhausted, and he just wants to go home. _Trapped in an elevator_ is not exactly his idea of a fun time. 

Honestly, there's really only one way this evening can get worse and that's if-

Without a sound, the elevator is plunged into full darkness. 

-the lights go out. 

Shit. He waits a moment, unease growing, but the comforting red glow of emergency lighting never comes. 

Perry takes his hat off and rummages around inside it, already feeling his heart pound at the complete darkness. With the lack of light, it's impossible to tell what's what in his hat, and he unconsciously holds his breath as his search grows desperate. It's got to be here, please be here-

He releases a sigh of relief when his fingers finally close around the cool metal of his flashlight. 

A dim, yellowed beam barely illuminates the car when he presses the button, and he curses under his breath.

It's definitely been a long time since he changed the batteries in his flashlight, but he didn't realize _quite_ how long it's been.

As long as the batteries last, though, he should be fine. Even some light is better than nothing. It's better than being alone in the dark. Especially since he and dark, enclosed spaces (or even dark spaces in general, there's a reason he has a nightlight at home) don't exactly get along all that well. 

Perry slumps to sit against the wall of the elevator, taking his fedora off and setting it next to him. This might be a while, depending on if someone from research and development gets called, or if anybody even _notices_ that the elevator is broken.

It's not a forgone conclusion. If the lights are out, the cameras might be as well, and then who knows if anybody will notice before morning. 

To be honest, this isn't exactly how he hoped to spend his evening. Even if the words _a_ _good night's sleep_ have disappeared from his vernacular, he could at least be tossing and turning in his bed in the Flynn-Fletcher home. (Not to mention, he missed dinner, so _that's_ making him irritable too.)

He may be on edge, and mildly pissed off, but it still isn't long before he's gotten bored. 

At least there's a deck of cards in his hat. He pulls them out, shuffling them idly. 

One of them is a bit peeled apart, so he examines the insides of the layers.

Huh. A miniature-scaled map. 

Comforting to know that OWCA's spy technology is on par with that of World War II era Britain. 

He continues shuffling, until he grows bored of that, and then he does his best to recall some tricks from his secondary-school magician phase. 

The sleight of hand comes back easily, until the cards are practically jumping beneath the cover of his sleeves, into his palms, up and down in the deck. He runs through every trick he knows over and over again, until the cynical part of his mind starts to go on about how he's much better at deception now that he's an agent. About how easy it is to lie, to trick, to cheat. 

Which, yeah, it's _true,_ but it's also depressing to think about.

So he shuffles again, and lays out a hand of solitaire. There, now there's no way he can twist this into something cynical. It's just a card game. 

Out of habit, Perry glances down at his wrist, to where his watch is. 

Or rather, where his watch _should_ be. His earlier mission had broken his watch as well. OWCA's tech is rather waterproof, but even it can't stop a literal tsunami. And it, being a more complicated piece of tech (all the functionality of a smartphone, plus lasers), hadn't been repaired yet when he stopped by the labs earlier. 

Maybe the techies will be done with it by the time he gets out of this elevator. He can only hope. 

Either way, all this means he has no idea how much time has elapsed. 

Fun. 

It shouldn't surprise him when his flashlight begins to flicker. After all, how long did he really expect the batteries to last?

Of course, he still flinches when the light goes out momentarily. The deck of cards (he gave up on solitaire when he forgot the rules, and went back to mindless shuffling) in his hands falls to the ground.

Perry holds his breath for a long moment, hoping that nothing will happen. And for a few seconds, nothing does. He reaches out to pick up the spilled deck, willing his shaking hands to calm down. Everything is fine. 

Then the flashlight goes out for good, and the elevator is thrown back into complete and total darkness. 

Oh hell no. 

He takes a breath, as slow as he can, but he can already feel the fear that's been poking at the back of his mind rearing its ugly head.

Is _fear_ even the right word? He's afraid of very little (tested fearless back in training, even), but those few things usually don't leave him like this. His mild phobia of roller coasters doesn't leave him frozen in place, even the fear of his family being killed doesn't make him feel like he's being crushed both inside and out. 

It's not like it's a rational fear either. It's entirely stupid, an unfounded fear of absolutely nothing. It's an elevator, it's not going to kill him. There's nothing bad in the darkness.

But there's still something tugging at the back of his mind. Dark rooms never end well. Especially not small, cramped, _stuck_ dark rooms. Where there's no way out. Where-

Perry shakes his head in an attempt to clear the thoughts inside. This train of thought is going _nowhere._ Somebody will realize he's in here soon, right? OWCA has cameras in every inch of the place. There's undoubtedly one in this elevator, and it likely has an internal battery. 

Besides, he's in the _middle of OWCA headquarters_. Nothing bad is going to happen. This is quite possibly the safest place he could be. There are plenty of agents around, and night security too. Just keep breathing, everything will be fine. 

Unless, of course, it _isn't_. Bad things happen all the time in his job. He could very easily wind up dead in faster than you can say _elevator_. He's nearly died in tiny dark rooms like this before, this could end the same way. And what's to say he won't end up _actually_ dead this time?

He shakes his head again. It's stupid to be afraid of the dark. 

But what if he's in real danger, what if he's going to die here?

He's being stupid. 

He's going to _die_. 

Something rattles in the darkness, and his heart turns to ice from its position in the pit of his stomach. 

He needs to get up. He needs to be ready to defend himself. But his body refuses to move even a millimeter. 

Another rattle. And another, and another, until there's a _creak_ and a _clang_ and a _thump_ of someone entering the elevator from the shaft above. 

Perry holds his breath. He should at least have gotten out one of the knives he keeps on his body. There's one on his ankle, just a few inches from his hands. Why couldn't he have grabbed it? Why can't he grab it?

He's going to die. He's going to die, and he can't even fight it. Can't even move. 

They say there are three reactions to danger- fight, flight, or freeze. Perry has always been a fighter, never letting himself go down without taking something else with him. 

But it turns out that here and now, his instincts have chosen _freeze._

And he can only hope that this intruder doesn't see him. 

"Well, it's _dark_ in here," a familiar voice with a Drusselstenian accent says. Perry releases the breath he was holding, a tear nearly sliding out of his eye in relief. Thank god. It's just Heinz. 

Still, he can't let himself relax. It's still dark. He still can't see Heinz. It could still be a recording. There could be bad guys behind him. The chances are slim, he _knows_ it's irrational, but it could happen. He's still afraid. 

"Is anybody else in here?" Heinz asks, and Perry almost reveals himself with a churr. 

Almost. 

There's still a chance of him being an enemy agent in disguise, however unlikely. 

And...there's something else, too. He and Heinz have been friends for a very long time. That friendship (at least, on Perry's end) has evolved into...more. 

Which means he _really_ doesn't want to have a breakdown in front of him. Heinz thinks he has a solid lock on his emotions, his actions, everything. He has no idea that Perry's actually a PTSD-riddled _wreck_ , who's afraid of a dark fucking elevator. 

And who could ever love that? 

So he doesn't do anything, curling up just a bit more so he can stay out of the way. 

"Guess not," Heinz says. "That's good, at least. Now, let's see here, I'll need a _flashlight..._ "

Usually, Perry doesn't mind Heinz's complete lack of an indoor voice. But now, with all of his senses on high alert, it's overwhelming. He presses his hands to his ears, his eyes shut tight and body curled in, and prays that Heinz doesn't notice him. 

At least there's going to be some sort of light. Then he can trust his eyesight, see who this really is. 

There's a rummaging noise, then the click of a button. A low, purple-tinted glow illuminates a tiny part of the elevator, causing Heinz's lab coat to glow a bit. 

"And...this is a blacklight," Heinz says, stating the obvious. "Which isn't going to work. Hey, at least the glowy lab coat is kinda cool." He switches off the light, and Perry's breath catches again. He can hear his blood rushing in his ears, can tell he's shaking. 

Heinz sighs. "Well, I guess I'm stuck. No way I can get back out. Really should have thought that through." He laughs lightly. "Oh well, at least it isn't the end of the world." 

There's a rustle, like he's sitting down on the ground. "All I have to do is wait."

He sounds so calm, and Perry feels a pang of envy. How is it possible for him to be this collected? Not reduced to a mess because of the _dark_?

In the darkness, Perry can hear _everything._ There's another rustle and a jingle, like he's pulling something metal out of a lab coat pocket. He starts to do _something_ with it, causing metallic clicks to echo in the tiny space. 

Perry tries to control his breath, tries to slow it down. But it's no use. The metallic _click-click-click_ of whatever Heinz is fiddling with in the dark sounds like a revolver's chambers spinning into place. The cold, hard floor of the elevator, the stale air, the crushing darkness flings him backwards into the unpleasant reaches of his memories. He can almost hear the distant laugh of a past captor, cackling in his ears. 

This is where he dies. 

The near-real weight of a revolver presses against his temple. _Let's play a game,_ an incomprehensible voice whispers in time with the clicking.

 _Best of luck._ Click, click, click.

Seconds drag on into eternity as Perry waits for his inevitable death. He opens his eyes, straining to see anything at all in the darkness, but there's nothing there. Nothing at all. He can't see a thing. 

There's nobody coming for him. He'll die right here, right now.

Click, click, click. 

His breath comes hot and fast, his nails dig into his palms, he's pretty sure he's crying. 

The clicking still continues. 

Five to one chances. 

_Last chance, pretty boy,_ the voice whispers. _Tell us what we want to know._

It almost feels like he's suffocating, there's an iron band around his ribs, he can't breathe. He wants so badly to scream.

But he can't. He can't, he fucking _can't_. He can't tell them anything, because he can't _speak_. And they _know_ that. And they're going to toy with him and kill him anyway. 

He can't even _try_ to get out- who knows what other sorts of horrors await him in the dark?

Click, click, click, he's _going_ to _die,_ in this dark and stale hellhole, he's gonna _die,_ he's _dead._

The revolver is back against his temple. Voices laugh and cackle in his ears. There's a thick stench of blood permeating the air, so heavy he can taste it on the back of his tongue. His palms still sting from where his own nails dig in. Every sense is overwhelmed _except_ sight. 

How much longer is this going to go on? Is he dead yet?

Why isn't he dead yet?

Another voice emerges from the chaos, slipping in and out with the ceaseless clicking. 

"-you're safe, it's all over-"

Click-click-click, he's not _safe,_ this isn't over. He's _dead_ , or at least he will be. The revolver is still there. He can still taste blood. 

"-it's just me - _Heinz_ , that is- and you-"

 _Heinz_. That name seems important. Perry clings to the voice like a lifeline, trying to ignore everything else overwhelming him. Maybe he can believe that. Comfort for a dying man. 

"-hang on, I think I can get a light-"

There's a beam of light coming from somewhere. Light. Actual _light,_ like from a flashlight. Enough to see by. Enough to see what's around him. Perry wrenches his eyes open.

"-you're safe. There's nobody hurting you. It's just me, Heinz, and you, Perry. We're in an elevator, in OWCA headquarters, in Danville. It's about...eleven PM, I think."

Kneeling in front of him, high cheekbones illuminated by the glow of a flashlight, is Heinz Doofenshmirtz. 

And just him. There's nobody else. They're sitting in an elevator, not a warehouse or a basement or anything like that. He's telling the truth. 

His eyes dart around the space, scanning for anything else. 

The deck of cards is still splayed out on the floor, in an impromptu game of fifty-two pickup. Heinz's blacklight is sitting on the floor, the battery casing open to reveal nothing inside. The ceiling vent cover leans up against one wall of the elevator. 

Most importantly, there's nobody else. Nobody trying to hurt him. 

Perry raises one shaking hand to where the revolver was pressed to his temple. There's nothing there. 

"Can I put my hand on your shoulder?" Heinz asks, holding his left hand up. Perry nods. 

He sets his hand on Perry's shoulder, and Perry tries to not flinch away. Somehow, he manages it. 

"Okay, we're gonna breathe together," Heinz says, his voice strangely calm and quiet. "Just try and match my breath. Can you do that?" 

Perry nods. Breathing. Yeah, he's pretty sure he can do that. 

He takes one breath, then another, and another. The weight of Heinz's hand on his shoulder and the gentle noises of their breath slowly help ground him in reality. 

There's nobody hurting him. No maniacs with Russian roulette obsessions. He's really safe. 

The clicking is gone. The taste of blood is from the inside of his cheek, where he must have bit it, and it's faint. There's no overwhelming _smell_ of blood filling the air, just a faint whiff of old cleaning supplies. 

"Just like that," Heinz says. "You're doing great."

One breath, and another. In and out. Slow and steady. 

Finally, after what seems like ages, Perry can feel his heart rate slow to a normal pace. 

"Is it the dark?" Heinz asks, his voice still in that strangely quiet tone. Perry nods, avoiding Heinz's eye, fully expecting him to poke fun at his loss of control.

"It's okay," he says, his hand rubbing gentle circles on Perry's shoulder. "Just- You can always talk to me about it, okay? You're not alone."

A long silence follows his words, one where Perry tries his best to ignore the tears slowly and steadily flowing down his cheeks. Maybe if he ignores them, they'll go away. 

It doesn't work. 

"I _did_ get your flashlight working, though," Heinz eventually says, "although you probably know that, since it's, you know, _light_ in here. Do you want to hold it?"

Perry nods. That's a good idea.

"Here you go. I think I've got some glow sticks in my hat, too- yeah, _here_ we go." Heinz pulls a fistful of glow sticks of various lengths out of his lab coat, handing a few to Perry with the flashlight. 

"They're the kind that you can make into bracelets and necklaces and things," he says, snapping one until it glows a bright green. He bends it into a circle, then fishes in his pocket until he finds a connector. "I don't know why I have them, but I guess it's a good thing I do, huh?" 

Perry nods, propping the flashlight up on his knee, then picking up a glow stick and snapping it. Yellow. He makes it into a circle and sets it on Heinz's head. 

In the light provided by the flashlight, Heinz almost looks like an angel. 

Truly, that's what he is. A guardian angel, descending from above to attempt to fix the elevator, then pulling him out of his own personal hell. 

"Does this help?" Heinz asks, securing a bright pink glow stick around Perry's wrist. 

Perry nods. There's light. Light is nice. And backups are always a good thing.

"I think the batteries in the flashlight should last a while," Heinz says as he moves to sit next to Perry, "but if they don't, I've got plenty more glow sticks in my hat." He pauses. "And probably some batteries rattling around up there too, so I probably didn't _need_ to raid the blacklight, but what _ever_. It _worked_."

He moves his hand from Perry's shoulder down to his hand, so that their fingers interlock. "This okay?" he asks. 

Perry nods again, then leans over into Heinz's side. 

"Oh- uh, yeah, that works too," he says. "I- yeah."

Seconds pass, then minutes. Perry almost looks down at his wrist to see the time, but he remembers that his watch is still upstairs. 

That's right, he still has to go get that, and give Maggie her phone back. He almost forgot all about that. 

Heinz sighs. "How long is it even going to take them? I could have fixed this by now."

Perry squeezes his hand, curling up a little closer into Heinz's side. God, he just wanted to give Maggie her phone back and go home. Why couldn't he have just taken the stairs? He'd be home by now, and he wouldn't have had a flashback. He might have nearly passed out from going up thirteen flights...but it might have been better in the long run. 

"You holding up okay?" Heinz asks, and Perry nods. As well as can be expected, considering the circumstances. 

And he's doing much better than before. 

"Here," he says, wrapping his arm around Perry's shoulders, "it might be a while until we're out of here. Do you think you can nap a bit? I know you're exhausted, I saw your debrief report."

Perry raises his eyebrows. Heinz saw the debriefing paperwork?

"Hey, don't act surprised, I want to know if you're okay. I worry when you're out in the field, you know. Besides, it's not like I don't have the clearance."

(He doesn't have the clearance.)

"But that doesn't matter," he continues. "You've had a long day, you should rest."

Perry completely agrees. He's exhausted. And Heinz has convinced the rational part of him that there's no danger. It's an elevator, in the middle of a highly defended secret agency. There's nobody else around, nobody looking to harm him or Heinz. With the flashlight, he can see the far walls, he can look up and see the ceiling. 

But there's still an irrational part of him that feels the need to be on high alert. In a way, it's even stronger than before thanks to Heinz's presence. If both of them died, or worse, if Heinz died and he didn't, because he fell asleep...

Heinz takes Perry's hand with his free one, calming the tremors that have started to crop up again. "You don't have to," he says. "Whatever is best for you."

Long moments pass, Heinz occasionally telling parts of stories before getting distracted and trailing off. His raspy voice is strangely soothing, and Perry finds himself slowly relaxing. There's parts of him that are still on edge, but they're slowly falling away. 

After what seems like hours (but is probably about thirty minutes), the lights in the elevator flick back on. 

"Oh, thank goodness," Heinz says, reaching out to grab the flashlight from where it sits in front of them. "Here," he says, handing it to Perry, "I believe this is yours."

Perry takes the flashlight, but he doesn't turn it off just yet. Not until he's really, truly sure they're safe. 

A few seconds later, the elevator jolts again, then resumes its journey upwards. 

"I guess that means they fixed it," Heinz says. 

Perry nods, clicking off the flashlight. He picks up his hat and puts the scattered cards inside, although he still makes sure to hold onto the light. Just in case. 

Heinz stands up first, holding out his hand to help Perry up as well. 

Perry stands, lurching forwards when he legs refuse to support his full weight.

Thankfully, Heinz catches him, pulling him forwards into a hug."I've got you," he murmurs. 

Perry lingers in his embrace, probably longer than he should. But it feels nice, and safe. 

Safety can be a rarity in his line of work, so he'll take what he can get. 

"Do you want me to take you home?" Heinz asks as the doors open with a _ding_. 

Perry very nearly declines the offer, but then he thinks about it for a moment. In his current state, driving (especially a motorcycle) is a really bad idea.

And...he trusts Heinz. Yeah, they were nemeses for a long time, and part of that will never go away, but he really does trust him. After all, they've seen each other at their most vulnerable. If he can't trust him after today, then why the hell not?

So he nods, still wrapped in Heinz's arms. 

"Okay," Heinz says. "Then let's get you home."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos always appreciated!
> 
> Come ramble at me on tumblr [here!](https://humanperryfic.tumblr.com/)


End file.
